Dead From the Waist Down
by At A Venture
Summary: When Eric is called out of town, Sookie must face facts that dating a high-profile vampire can have serious consequences.
1. Chapter 1

_NOTE: This fic discusses mature themes, including those of sexual violence and assault. If these themes disturb you, please do not read! This fic may be triggering to survivors of sexual violence.  
_

**Dead from the Waist Down**

_Chapter 1_

Eric walked into Merlotte's at a little after midnight, glanced around, nodded to me, and sat down in my section. I couldn't help but smile a little. Eric and I had been seeing each other regularly for a few months, but we hadn't actually let that out to the rest of the community yet, vampire or not. As far as anyone knew, Eric Northman was responsible for my protection, along with his assistant, Pam, and that was the extent of our relationship. What we did on our own time was anybody's guess.

I moved from one table to the next, taking my time before I reached Eric. Try not to seem suspicious, Sookie. Eric isn't your lover. He's just some guy that you see every once in awhile. He's the slightly irritating owner of a bar in Shreveport. He definitely doesn't make love to you on the bathroom tile, or the kitchen counter, or in the middle of a cemetery. That small two-prong scar on the inside of your thigh is most certainly not from his teeth sinking into you three nights ago when you screamed loud enough to wake the dead. I stepped briefly in front of the mirror behind the bar. Was it just really hot in here or was I blushing?

Yep, blushing. I dabbed my face with the bar rag before turning on my heel to walk to Eric's table.

'What can I get you?" I asked. I looked discreetly at him through my lowered eyelashes. He smiled back at me, that sexy Eric smile that's partly smirking, partly laughing, and partly wondering what you have on under your uniform shorts. I wasn't wearing anything.

"True Blood, O Negative," Eric ordered without another word. I nodded and walked back to the bar, making sure to brush his shoulder with a sweep of my arm. Oh yeah, we were stealthy. I stuck a bottle of synthetic blood into the microwave, delivered the drink when it was ready, and went back to my other tables. It took all of my willpower not to glance up at him every few seconds, just to make sure his eyes never left me.

The traffic didn't wind down until about ten minutes to closing, and it was then that Eric got up from his table. He left cash in a bundle on the table, gave me a sidelong glance, and left. I knew that look. He'd be waiting outside for me as soon as I got off. Oh how I wanted to get off…of work. Yeah. I stumbled over to the table (tripping over my shoelaces), and grabbed the money he'd left on the table beside his check. I pocketed the twenty dollar bill (which I realize is about a 200% tip, but I'm working on the pride thing…), made change in the register, and kept the rest. I cleaned the tables faster than you can perform Meg Ryan's fake orgasm, then grabbed my purse, and stumbled out the back door.

Eric was standing at the foot of Sam's trailer. Well, that was a little odd. I looked around, and I listened, stretching out my mind to probe for those blank spots that indicate vampire minds. There was only one, and he was standing right in front of me.

"Can I walk you to your car?" He smiled, keeping up our mutual charade. He climbed into the driver's seat. I looked up at him with doe eyes after I'd pulled the passenger side door shut. Kiss me, oh please kiss me.

He brushed his thumb along the line of my jaw, fingered the underside of my chin, and then bent his head to touch my lips with his. Oh, it was good. Vampires tend to kiss well, in my limited experience. Eric was the best kisser I'd ever had the pleasure to make out with. He wasn't so bad at the other things either.

"I have some bad news," he said, keeping one eye on the road as we drove out to the house. I frowned. Couldn't he wait to tell me the bad news later, maybe after we made love six times and I'd already passed out? Okay, so I wouldn't appreciate it then, but I wouldn't have to think about it now. I stuck out my lower lip to prove how pouty I was about his news. He half-smiled at me before returning to serious mode. "Pam and I have been summoned to New Orleans to attend to the King." Oh he was not pleased. That was a displeased frown.

"Oh," I replied quietly.

"I spoke to Sam. Things are still…up in the air with the new regime, and I'm worried about leaving you unprotected."

"I…" I started to protest but he held up his hand and cut me off.

"I'm serious, my lover. I worry about leaving you alone in the day, but I worry even more that you are alone at night. If someone were to attempt to hurt you…" He clenched his teeth together. I sighed and reached across the parking break to touch his hand. We pulled up behind the house, alongside Amelia's car, and walked in together. He took my hand once I'd shut the door, and we walked quietly to the back of the house, into my bedroom. I shut the door with a quiet click.

"So you spoke to Sam?" I asked. I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed my shoes. Eric remained standing, his eyes darting toward the window. I'd shut the curtains, but he still watched them.

"I did not let on about our relationship, Sookie. I only asked Sam to keep an eye on you while Pam and I are away. He didn't ask questions. He doesn't seem to like me much."

"You don't like him much," I shrugged.

"He wants you." Eric said simply, as if that excused his dislike. I sighed. I didn't think Sam actually had feelings for me, at least not anymore. Maybe it was some sort of man thing, like a jealousy schtick that meant you couldn't like any of the male company your lover kept. Or something like that.

"So now Sam's going to be…what…coming over for tea after work?" I raised an eyebrow. In the closet, I yanked out a nightgown.

"I've asked him to keep an eye on you at work, in the parking lot. Bill will watch out for you when you're home."

"Bill?" I squeaked, taken aback. As in Vampire Bill? As in my ex-boyfriend, ex-lover, asshole Bill?

"Yes." He answered shortly. When I shot him daggers with my eyes, he frowned. "You do not need to invite him in, my lover. He will keep an eye on the house when you are in it. I've asked him to drive home with you from the bar. He cares for your well-being, even if you do not care for his."

"Why should I?!" I retorted angrily.

"It is only until I return, my lover," Eric sighed, moving across the room, around the bed, to embrace me. I let my guard down just a little. I wanted to be angry, but Eric's presence tended to have a calming effect on me. I took a deep breath and relaxed.

Cool fingers touched my jaw. My eyes lifted to meet his. I took a smaller breath, let it out. Peaceful thoughts trickled down my arms, my legs, and my spine. Though I had just finished dressing in my nightgown, I wanted him to take it from me. The Viking gathered me in his arms and laid me out on top of Gran's quilt. I leaned up, reaching for his mouth with mine. Tender fingers brushed my hair back from my face.

"Kiss me," I whispered anxiously, reaching up to take his neck in my hands. He half-smiled and pressed his lips to mine. Our tongues intertwined, and I sucked on his bottom lip. Hands were up under my nightgown, and Eric was rubbing my nipple idly with his thumb. I split my thighs open to welcome his hips. His pants were still on, so I reached down to fumble with the button. Oh please don't take your hands off of me. I was moaning softly into his mouth, murmuring sweet discourse. My trembling fingers slid over his shaft, and I stroked the skin excitedly.

Eric lifted his head, breaking the bond of our lips. He chuckled at me in all my nervous desire. My cheeks felt bright red, glowing in the dark. Eric's hand dropped from my breast and snaked between my thighs.

"Is there something you want, my lover?" He grinned, using his thumb to spread me open like the petals of a rosebud. I opened my mouth to speak, but could only manage a tiny sound that might have been a 'yes'.

"I won't know what it is unless you tell me," he teased. He was stroking me, up and down the length of my vulva. I made a brief whimpering noise, but I couldn't seem to find words to express myself.

"Tell me, Sookie," he growled, bending his head near my ear. The rough hair on his chin tickled my cheek. One of his fingers slid down inside me. He crooked it and rubbed at a spot he'd only mentioned in passing before. My throat clamped up. If I'd been incapable of speech before, I was definitely mute now. My back arched and I clenched my fists together. Another finger dove inside me. Like a spark, I doubled up, bending my entire body into a tight fetal position. I stretched back out again almost immediately.

Then I found a word. "Eric," I breathed.

"Sookie," he whispered with an undertone of aggression.

"What…"

"…am I doing to you?" Eric finished my question and I was immediately glad. I nodded. He chuckled, still hovering near my earlobe. His deep voice spurred on whatever he was doing to me with his fingers. I couldn't think clearly. Shaking—my whole self was shaking. "I believe I'm giving you the best orgasm of your life."

I nodded. Got that right.

"Unless you'd like me to stop," and then his hand stopped moving. I let out a choking gasp.

Don't stop don't stop don't stop.

"No!" I squeaked with all the might and power of a mouse in a mouse trap.

"So you like it then?" Eric asked me. He was grinning. His fangs were partially extended.

Yes yes yes yes yes.

"Yes." Breathless. I couldn't find air even if I'd wanted to fill my lungs with it. His fingers started moving again, faster than they had before. His lips found my throat and I lost control of every thought, every ability, every extension of my self. Fangs grazed my skin but didn't bite down. I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled this way and that. There was so much pleasure that it was painful to experience. A part of me wanted to roll away, but another part of me wanted him to go faster.

Sex is all about inner conflict.

And then it's all about orgasm. Eric's free hand clamped over my mouth as I screamed with delight. I knew he was right to keep me moderately quiet. Amelia was asleep upstairs, and no one was supposed to know what we were up to anyway. I screamed until my throat was sore, and then I screamed until my lungs gave up. And then tears stung my cheeks and I was weeping. I didn't know why I was crying, but it seemed like the right thing to do, and I couldn't have stopped.

Eric slid inside me while I was still sore, tired, and somewhere between Cloud Nine and Earth. I spiraled up again, wobbling uneasily toward another orgasm. He'd been ready for some time now, and whether or not he was being thoughtful, he came quickly and I followed right behind him. I was still in the throes of latent ecstasy when he pulled me against his naked chest and kissed my damp forehead.

When I woke up at nine the next morning, he was gone. My legs wobbled when I got up to use the bathroom.

I walked into work that day with a bright, unrelenting smile on my face. I was sure my cheeks looked a little rosier than normal, and I even had a little bounce in my step. It helped that I had taken a couple of Tylenol before I'd left the house. Whatever Eric had done to me the night before (I'd have to get hold of Amelia's computer to find out just _what_ that had been), it had left me incredibly sore. I had felt like I'd been ridden hard and put away wet.

Which, come to think of it, I had. I suppressed a giggle. Sam raised an eyebrow at me when I passed by the bar to relieve Danielle.

The shift at the bar was ho hum, and I spend at least 75 percent of it reliving the previous night in my mind. I desperately wanted to know when we'd do that again. It really was breathtaking and crazy and out of this world wonderful. My knees shook a little and I grabbed onto the bar top for support. Some of my customers, including my brother Jason, commented on my saccharine sweet attitude and my vibrantly rosy cheeks.

"Oh, I just bought the cutest new outfit," I giggled at Halleigh Bellefleur when she remarked on my perkiness. Okay, I know I lied, but what was I going to say? Yes Halleigh, I had the best orgasm ever last night. Please let me tell you all about it! Yeah. Don't think so.

Of course, as soon as I denied myself the pleasure of gushing to Halleigh, I thought about calling Claudine to gush to her. The only thing was, Claudine didn't know I was dating Eric. Then I thought about calling Pam. Pam definitely knew. She spent 95 percent of her time with the Viking, and I talked to her pretty often about gushy girly stuff. If Pam had been home, or at work, I would have called her on my way home from the bar. But she was in New Orleans, on business, with my hot hunk of vampire lover. Damn. This is why a girl needs a diary.

For the last half hour of my night, I thought about writing diary entries about really good sex. I could turn back and read them when I was alone, like watching yourself in a pornographic movie. Okay Sookie, now you're just being weird. Calm down. Get ahold of yourself! There will always be great sex. With Eric. Sex with Eric. Eric and sex.

Plan B. Plan A is obviously not working. Plan B was to go home and take a cold shower, then climb into bed, read a book, and fall asleep.

I grabbed my belongings out of Sam's office and walked out into the parking lot. It wasn't until right then that I remembered Bill Compton was escorting me home. He was leaning against my car, his arms crossed over his chest. When he saw me under the security light, he was on me like white on rice. I didn't feel so hot and bothered anymore. Seeing Bill made me feel like a cold fish.

"Sookie," Bill greeted me abruptly. Yep, Bill, that's my name. I thought of about fifty words that described what a turd he was, but I didn't say them out loud. I was content to fume in silence.

"Goodnight Sookie," Sam called from the backdoor of Merlotte's. I turned around and waved. Bill got into the driver's seat, and I slid in on the other side.

"How was work?" Bill asked me, as if we were making casual conversation now.

"Fine," I grunted.

"Sookie, since we are alone…" Bill started. Oh no. Oh no he was not going to use this opportunity to explain his behavior with his maker. I was NOT going to sit there and take that.

"Don't you start!" I growled at him. "This little _Driving Miss Daisy_ arrangement is just until Eric gets back from New Orleans. I am NOT some willing participant in the Reasons to Give Bill a Second Chance game show. You can drive me home. You can watch the house. But if I hear a PEEP out of you about Lorena, I'm calling Sam."

Bill didn't peep again.

That night, I stared at the ceiling in my bedroom. I could _not _hear Bill Compton out in the yard, watching the house. His empty mind hovered like a black hole, a big empty space in the dark. I tried to think about Eric, to relive the last night we'd spent together, but with the ex looming outside, it was impossible to concentrate. Claudine had thoughtfully mailed me a pretty pink vibrator, shaped like a rabbit, for my birthday, but it just sat in my drawer like a limp noodle. Bill was the antithesis of sexual thoughts. It was like I was dead from the waist down.

I had to work again the following day, and I drove myself to work at five to relieve Danielle from another day shift. I walked into the bar and stashed my things in Sam's empty office. When I walked out into the bar, Terry Bellefleur was pouring a Jack and Coke for his cousin, Andy. Holly did a turn around the tables and waved at me. I snuck behind the bar to grab an order pad and a pen.

"Sam wanted me to give you this," Terry frowned. He handed me a white piece of paper, folded twice. I thanked him and opened the note. It was covered in Sam's hasty scrawl. I blinked, held it away from my face, and read it to myself.

_Sookie, I've been called away from the bar on urgent business. I know I told Eric I'd keep an eye on you, but I couldn't get out of this. If you need anything, call my cell phone. I can't believe I'm admitting this, but you should call Bill Compton first since he's closer. Be cautious, Sook. Sam. _

I folded the note and stuck it in my pocket. So much for that whole calling Sam thing. Now I actually had to rely on Bill if I happened to get into trouble. Not good. It was all very not good.

I wandered around the bar in a partial daze, thinking about the remote (or not so remote) chance that I'd actually need protection while my lover was away. No one knew that we were seeing one another, or at least, that hadn't worried Eric enough to keep him from seeing me. Even if someone did know, would they want to take the chance to make Eric really angry by hurting me in some way? Let's face it, Eric may be beautiful and good-natured and great in bed, but he's a very scary, rather wealthy, competitively powerful vampire. I'd seen Eric mad, but I'd never seen Eric really, really pissed off. I was actually a little scared of the possibility. Someone would have to piss him off a lot to make the proverbial fire come out of his nostrils. I wasn't about to get on his bad side.

Terry Bellefleur caught me by the arm as I walked past him with a couple of empty glasses. He gave me an attempt at a smile. "Sookie honey, could you grab some more lemons from the store room?"

I smiled at him and nodded. Terry was a good guy, even if he was a little nuts. War does crazy things to people, and it had done even crazier things to Terry. I touched him lightly on the shoulder and went down the hall to the supply closet.

Stupid Sookie. Stupid, stupid Sookie.

I opened the door to the supply closet to grab a bushel of lemons when something or someone ambushed me from Sam's office. I wanted to scream for help but a heavy, incredibly strong hand clamped over my mouth. I kicked away from the wall, but the thing behind me didn't even budge backward. He held his ground like some kind of wall with arms. As silent as the grave, he bustled me out of the back door. We were in front of a fancy blue Beamer in seconds. Vampire. It had to be a vampire. Oh shit. Shit shit shit! A second man popped open the trunk. They picked me up, one holding my legs, the other with his hand clamped over my mouth. The lid slammed shut and blotted out my screams.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.


	2. Chapter 2

_NOTE: This story may be triggering to victims or survivors of sexual or domestic violence. _

**Dead from the Waist Down**

_Chapter 2_

For the first couple of minutes, I dug around frantically in my pockets. Like an idiot, I'd left my cell phone in my purse in the bar. Oh yeah Sookie, it was really helpful there. Good going! Then I dug around in the dark of the trunk. What I needed was a weapon, preferably something wooden. These thugs, whoever they were, had been smart. There was nothing in the trunk except me, Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid. I searched every nook and cranny, ran my hands along every seam in the rough carpet covering, and came up empty handed. This was not good. This was definitely not good.

Worse yet? It was only a couple of hours into my shift and Bill Compton wouldn't show up until my shift was over. I mean, sure, Terry and Holly would raise the alert as soon as they noticed I was missing, but unless Bill showed up at the bar, I was sure he wouldn't actually figure out I was gone for another, what, five or six hours? A few more curses drifted through my mind. I had to think clearly, but all I could think about was how very, very screwed I was.

I was in Deep Shit, Louisiana.

A half an hour later, the trunk popped open and I came out screaming. I jumped to my feet (where I'd been crouching since the car had rolled to a stop) and slung both my arms out with big fists attached. There was no way I was giving in without a really good fight. I caught one vamp across the face with my fingernails (which I hadn't cut in a couple of days), but the other one snapped me to the ground with a smack to the back of my shoulders. I fell like a lump of coal and smacked my forehead on the asphalt.

Okay. Ow. Not cool, guys, not cool.

Someone yanked me to my feet by my hair, which gave me cause to let out a little yelp of pain. You know how, in those movies, the woman grabs onto the man's wrist so that it doesn't hurt so damn much when he drags her around by her head? Yeah, that doesn't work. I scrambled off my knees, holding onto the vamp's arm for support, but no matter what I did to lessen my own suffering, he just made it worse. I was just barely able to dart my head up and gaze at the dull red sign for Fangtasia. The bar was closed. There were two cars parked out front.

The house lights were on, and the bar took on an eerie quality. I'd never been to Fangtasia when it looked like this. There were boxes of synthetic blood on the bar top, ready to be put away. The waitresses had left their black aprons on a stool in a heap. Someone had left a glass out on one of the tables and it had left a ring-shaped stain on the varnish. I could see from my position near the floor that the dance floor was painted black. The red walls were darker than they appeared at night. The whole room needed a good dusting.

The vampire dragged me to my feet. I let out a wailing yelp and struggled, holding my hair at the root so it wouldn't rip out of my skull in one big clump. The door to Eric's office was hanging wide open, and a man got up from his desk. I knew it wasn't Eric. I wanted it to be Eric. I wanted it to be Eric so badly that when I saw who it actually was, I let out a little cry of disappointment.

The man was shorter than my Viking, but by no means short. He had thick and curly black hair, smoothed back against his scalp like a gangster in a mob movie. He would not have looked out of place with a tommy gun and a smoking cigar. His eyes were as dark as his hair, a coffee brown as dark and deep as mud. He wore a tailored pinstripe suit with a blood red pocket square folded into his breast pocket. A small red rosebud stuck out of the label button hole. He'd certainly dressed up nicely for a kidnapping.

"Ah, Sookie Stackhouse," he grinned. His teeth were perfectly, eerily straight. Have you ever seen that movie "American Psycho"? He looked just like Christian Bale, ready to slaughter a couple of prostitutes with a chainsaw. I shivered.

"Victor Madden," I growled, narrowing my eyes to slits. "Aren't you supposed to be in New Orleans, licking your King's boots?" If you're going to be kidnapped, you might as well be snide about it.

"The King is in Vegas, Sookie, and you needn't worry about his interference."

The King was in Las Vegas? But hadn't Eric told me he and Pam were summoned to New Orleans for the King? Something was rotten in Denmark, and damned if I didn't know what.

"Drop her," Victor said, and I stumbled a little when my hair fell loose from my captor's grip. Victor's arm reached out and caught me by the wrist. He reached out and touched my cheek, his fingers tracing my lower lip, my chin. I shook my head and made a move to bite him. He chuckled, and his voice was oddly light. He was a tenor if anything. How odd.

"Wait outside." He grunted at his cohorts who nodded and stood on either side of Eric's office door. Victor dragged me inside. I dug my heels into the floor, but it was like fighting a raging bull. He pulled me along behind him as if I were a rag doll.

"Miss Stackhouse, the famous telepath, the pet of the former queen of Louisiana. You're a legend." He sneered at me. His hand fell from my wrist and I scrambled immediately into the farthest corner. I shoved myself into a crevice between Eric's bookshelf and the wall. Need a weapon, need a weapon. I scanned around. There was a stapler on the desk, heavy books on the shelf, and the barman's bat (a customary complement to any bar, even one run by vampires) near the door.

"Fine, whatever, I'm a legend. I can't read your mind. I'm no threat to you."

Keep him talking, Sookie. If you can keep him talking for a handful of hours, maybe someone will figure out where you are.

Except that you're in Shreveport, a half hour car ride away, trapped in a bar with three vampires.

Don't be negative! Remain positive!

"You aren't a threat to me, Miss Stackhouse. You are a pawn in a much bigger game. You are a pet to half the vampires in your area. I want to know more about you. Why do they gravitate toward you?" Victor was inching toward me, but not in an obvious way. It seemed as though he was making casual conversation, and in so doing, he was moving about the room. But Sookie Stackhouse, telepath and barmaid, is not dumb. I knew he was closing in. I had to act fast.

Whatever he was going to do, I didn't want to be part of it.

"Maybe it's my winning personality. I serve a mean bottle of TrueBlood." I stalled. I needed to get across the office, to the bat. The bat was my best chance. Hell, it was my only chance. I slid out of my corner, just a tiny bit. And then Victor was right in front of me, nose to nose. I yelped. Even though I'd seen it coming, it was still a shock.

"I don't think that's it, Miss Stackhouse. You are a human conducting business with vampires. You are a human conducting love affairs with vampires. There is only one thing a vampire desires, truly desires, from a human." His fangs extended. I put my arms out in front of me. I shoved against his chest with every ounce of strength I could muster. Victor was a wall of muscle and teeth. He didn't move. I'd only half-expected him to yield to me.

"My good business sense?" I cracked. Victor grinned. He grinned, unmoving, for so long that I thought maybe he would let me go.

He didn't.

Instead, he grabbed me by the neck, tore away the collar of my shirt, and sank his fangs into my neck. It felt as though I'd never been bitten by a vampire before. My skin split underneath his teeth, and punctured the muscle beneath. I let out a scream of pain and terror. This was not a bite from Bill in the heat of the moment. This wasn't a bite from Eric with his hand soothingly placed on my hip, his hair brushing against my face. This wasn't one of those times when I felt an orgasmic surge of pleasure and took hold of my partner.

This wasn't like that at all.

Blood flowed down over my neck, spilling out of the wound. Victor sucked fluids out of the holes in my neck as though he were sucking Coke through a straw. I had a brief mental picture of him blowing back into the wound and making little bubbles in my blood. My shirt turned a rusty red and hung loosely as it soaked up weight. I felt hot tears on my cheeks, and I beat at his shoulders with my arms and hands. Victor took hold of me roughly and slammed my wrists against the concrete wall. New realms of pain shot through me. I struggled though I was pinned. My eyes darted around the room, to the door, to the phone on Eric's desk.

Don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please…

Suddenly, I dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap, like a bag of dirty laundry. My arms and legs were shaking. I pressed both hands awkwardly against my still bleeding neck. He hadn't even licked up the wound. It was messy and still bleeding rapidly. The tips of my fingers were cold. I stared at Victor through half-lidded eyes.

"You taste…sweet," Victor grinned, a wide, toothy, blood-stained grin. My blood ringed his lips and trickled down his chin. He was a messy eater. I was filled with disgust. Still, behind him, the door didn't open. "I'm tempted to have more of you."

"Don't," I whimpered. I actually pleaded. I'd tried to be brave, to fight back, to be the Sookie I knew I was on the inside. Strength oozed out of me from my leaking wound. I wasn't strong and brave Sookie. I was pathetic and simpering Sookie. I just wanted my Viking. Hell, at this point, I'd take Bill Compton.

"Don't worry, little telepath." He was grinning again. He looked like Pennywise the Clown. I wanted to smack him across the face, but my arms felt heavy. "I have other plans for you."

For a minute, I was actually grateful. I wasn't ready to die. I wanted my own cat, a child of my own, a boyfriend that stuck around, maybe even a husband. I wanted to finish the book on my nightstand and I wanted Eric to hold me in his arms and tell me he loved me. And then I realized that Victor's other plans for me could be anything. I felt a shudder skitter down my back. My skin actually crawled.

"Eric!" I said suddenly, like that was some kind of revelation. I pushed myself slowly up the wall, leaning my back into the concrete to get my bearings. "I'm under his protection!" Maybe that would work, maybe it wouldn't. I had to try. After all, Eric was a powerful guy, probably more powerful than even I realized.

"The Northman deserves to be taken down a peg," Victor replied with a cackle. He was advancing toward me again. I grabbed a book off the shelf. I was out of options here. I needed to fight back. "Besides, I know the Viking is more than your protector."

The book fell from my fingers. I went numb. Everything from the shoulders down seemed to shut off, like something had pinched a nerve along my spinal cord. The book echoed when it fell. Victor was in front of me again, his wet and stick mouth sucking some of the coagulating blood from my skin. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

"He has feelings for you." One of his hands, large with hairy knuckles, wrapped around my throat. He dipped his thumb into the wound on my neck and I jerked involuntarily.

"Don't," I stammered. "Please…"

"You might even say he loves you, Miss Stackhouse."

I froze. The room was spinning. He was mistaken. Eric and I…he didn't…he couldn't. Oh my God Sookie, that's not important now! Look where you are! You need to do something!

But I couldn't do anything. I'd never felt so completely helpless. I was completely alone, weaponless, powerless, with a cold-blooded killer. I didn't know what to do. Maybe if I just went with it, he'd spare me. Maybe if I just let him…

No. No I couldn't. I couldn't.

I heard him jingle his belt buckle. He didn't even take off his suit jacket. He ripped forcefully at my uniform shorts. The seams gave way with pathetic ease. Tears fell down my face. Sometimes I'd imagined Eric ripping off my clothes and having his way with me, but I'd wanted it. I'd wanted him. It wouldn't have been like this. I wouldn't have felt so violated. As if I could protect myself, I wrapped my arms pathetically around my partially naked self. His laughter was grotesque. My blood was still lingering on his tongue and between his teeth. He grabbed my arms in one hand and shoved them against the wall. I couldn't struggle away. He was too strong for me. Victor's other hand pushed my legs apart. I fought to hold them together, even going so far as to cross my ankles. But his hands ripped them apart, twisting one of my ankles in a direction distinctly unnatural.

When he thrust inside of me, I let out a violent, ear-splitting scream. Tears filled my eyes and streamed down my face. Pathetically, I fought back. I clawed at the wall near my trapped hands. I kicked with my legs. I squirmed and struggled and writhed. The vampire seemed to get a kick out of me, like I wasn't hurting him at all.

"Fight me, Sookie." He growled near my cheek. His dark muddy eyes danced. His skin prickled with gooseflesh. All the fight went out of me and I stood limp against the wall for a minute.

There was a rattling at the office door. My head jerked up, and I started yelling like a maniac.

"In here! I'm in here!" I fought anew, screaming all the while. I fought harder than I'd ever fought before. The door swung open and Bill Compton's neck craned in. He looked hard at me, let out a sharp growling noise, and disappeared from the door. There was scuffling and movement, growls and animalistic noises. I watched for a long time, but Bill did not reappear.

"Bill!" I screamed, a high-pitched scream that begged him to come back.

"Sorry boss," one of my kidnappers grunted. He grabbed the door knob and slammed it shut.

"No," I whispered. "No."

"You're mine, Sookie Stackhouse." Victor growled triumphantly, resuming the jerking movement inside of me. I hung my head and trembled.

There was no use fighting it now. I had seen my rescuer and he had failed me. Eric was gone, possibly having lied to me. Maybe he had had enough of me. Maybe he was done with me. Victor had claimed me now. I would have to get used to this…this treatment. I wept in my defeat. I wanted to sink to the floor and die. There was no way out.

Victor came inside me. I felt his orgasm jolt into me. My mood sank even further. It had happened. I'd been…I'd been… I couldn't even say it. I couldn't think the words. If I put a name on it, I'd have to admit it to myself and everyone else. You're ready to die now, Sookie. Anything is better than this.


	3. Chapter 3

_NOTE: This story may be triggering to victims or survivors of sexual or domestic violence. _

**Dead from the Waist Down**

_Chapter 3_

I didn't even look up when the door ripped away from the hinges. All I heard was the clatter of screws as they fell to the floor. I found the strength to lift my head. Eric was standing in the doorway. This was the scariest I had ever seen him, but I didn't feel scared. I only felt dead.

Eric's face and hands and shirt were bloody. His mouth was opened wide in a roar, a sound that escaped his throat and filled the entire room. His fangs were out and dripping with saliva and blood. His burning blue eyes were narrowed to slits, and his blond eyebrows sank down over his shadowed brow. Despite the deathly stillness of the office, Eric's thick blond hair flew out behind him. He stalked into the room and grabbed Victor by the neck.

I felt a tiny ounce of relief when I was allowed to melt down to the floor at last. I watched quietly, without emotion, as Victor swung backward with such force that he made an indent in the wall. His flaccid penis flopped against his thigh. Vomit gurgled in my throat. Victor's perfectly styled hair had strayed from its placement, and it stuck up in an odd series of peaks. The vampire didn't seem to mind much.

Eric pulled back his fist over and over again, smashing it into the vampire's face. He began to resemble raw hamburger meat. The Viking hissed, sort of like a cottonmouth snake. He threw his hand between his foe's legs and tore at the meaty flesh. Victor let out an inhuman screaming sound. Blood poured from the wound, on to Eric's clothes, and onto the floor. I watched in spite of myself. This wasn't something I wanted to see, although admittedly, I'd imagined something like it in my head only minutes before.

An arm tore away from the bleeding corpse, and it flew into the hall. There were more screams, torturous noises that made my head ache. I wondered if my ears would bleed. Maybe they already were. My stomach tightened. I twisted my head just in time to puke all over the floor. Whitish vomit spilled over my knee. I hadn't turned my head far enough. The sight of it brought up another stomach full of fluid and mostly digested food. I coughed, gagged, and pushed my hair behind my ears.

There was a sick squishing noise and Eric dropped down to my side. He wiped the back of his arm across his mouth, smearing blood away from his lips. His deep blue eyes were filled at once with an emotion I didn't recognize. He wasn't teasing me or laughing at me. Oh silly Sookie, what's she gotten herself into now? Stupid humans, always falling into those vampire traps. His arms slid around my waist, and I vomited over his arm.

He didn't pull away.

"Pam, the car," Eric hissed over his shoulder. I looked over his arm to see Pam pop her head into the room and pop back out again. She looked pretty, even though her jaw was splattered with blood. I wondered how I looked. Not pretty, that's for sure. Silly Sookie, should have used the waterproof mascara today.

Eric lifted me from the floor. I felt sick again, but there was nothing left in me to throw up. Eric stepped over the pile of blood and body parts on the floor. I buried my head in his hair to avoid looking at it. We sat together in the backseat of Pam's car, a spacious black Cadillac with fins. The Viking remained silent, and I didn't have anything to say. I didn't cry or vomit or make much of a sound. After a few minutes, Pam pulled up in front of a large ranch-style house on a well-manicured suburban street.

Eric got out of the car, with me still in his arms. Pam parked the car and dug someone out of the front seat. I didn't have to turn around to guess that it was Bill. So he's not dead. I guess that's a good thing. Eric stuck his key in the lock and opened the door. I hadn't noticed from the outside, but the house had no windows. Strange. Eric floated down the hall. He knew where he was going. This was obviously his house.

I'd never been to Eric's house.

He set me down at last on a chair in the bathroom. I pulled my knees up to my chest and balanced awkwardly on the seat. My stomach felt queasy again. Eric's bathroom had pretty pearly white tiles. He turned away from me to run the bath. The sound of water crashing into the basin made me even more ill. I looked around for a toilet, but this was a special house and it didn't have one. Without further thought, I turned my head and threw up on the floor. It was mostly stomach acid, not much else. Eric turned around and was by my side, holding my hair.

When I'd emptied the entire contents of my insides onto his floor, Eric carefully stood me up and moved to take off my clothes. Or at least, what was left of them. I held my arms awkwardly over my chest. Without a word, he lifted me up and placed me carefully in the bath. It was gigantic, more than big enough for two people to sit in comfortably. I sank under the water and shut my eyes. I didn't want to know what I looked like. Sookie Stackhouse, the world's biggest bruise.

Eric undressed quickly and sank into the tub beside me. I wanted to sink into him, to feel comforted by him. He doesn't want you now, Sookie, my sub-conscious sighed sadly. You let that guy have you. You didn't even fight back. My head was right. I scrambled into the furthest corner of the tub and closed my eyes.

"Sookie," Eric frowned. He didn't ask me to come back to him. What would I say if he had? To my surprise, he rearranged himself and sat at the other end of the tub with me. There, he pulled me into his chest.

"You weren't in New Orleans," I said stiffly.

"Says who?"

"Victor," I whispered. "He said the King was in Vegas."

"Pam and I were summoned to New Orleans, Sookie. That's where we went. There was no one there waiting for us. I knew something was up."

My hair was covered in vomit and blood, but he stroked it anyway.

"He knew." My voice was so small, I wasn't even sure I'd spoken out loud.

"About us," he frowned. "He must have."

"He did. He said…" I tensed. "He said you love me." A flood of emotional responses washed over me. How could Eric love me? How could Victor know that? Even if he'd loved me before… "It doesn't matter though. Even if you loved me before, you can't love me now."

"Why can't I?" He hadn't admitted it. If we'd been in another situation, he might have smiled. We weren't smiling.

"He claimed me. He said I was his."

Eric heaved a heavy sigh. He touched my shoulder and pulled me close. His lips grazed my temple. "He's dead, Sookie. I killed him. He's dead." He nudged my cheek with his lips but I couldn't look at him. "And I do love you."

I stared hard at the water. If he was lying, this wasn't the time. If he was telling the truth, why hadn't he said so before?

"I should have said something before." Eric said. "Sookie, I have not known this feeling since… I do not even know how long it has been."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

"For making you feel things for me that you shouldn't, for putting myself in danger, for letting it happen." It was my fault, even though I didn't know why. It had to be my fault. I'd brought it on myself.

"My feelings for you are my own, Sookie." He sighed, and this time he touched my face in such a way that I was forced to look at him. He took in the state of me, the sight of me. He visibly winced. I wasn't sure how I looked but I knew it wasn't good.

"And none of this is your fault," he pressed his lips against my forehead, then looked right into my eyes. He was so intense, I wanted to look away. "None of this is your fault. Do you understand me?" He held my cheek in his hand. I didn't believe him, but I nodded so that he would let go.

"You were a Viking," I said. He slid a cloth into the water to soak.

"I was," he replied tentatively.

"You must have done your share…"

"Done my share…" He rolled the words over in his mouth. "No."

"Don't lie to me. I've read stories. I've ready history books!" I turned on him with venom on my lips. I needed to be angry.

"Those histories were derived from the sagas of my people. The stories were convoluted tales of romance and action and danger written during the 1500s! There were men among me who raped and pillaged their way across Europe. But I was not one of them, Sookie. In war, I took gold. I did not take women."

I didn't know what to do with myself. Tears boiled up behind my eyes. Eric wrung some of the water out of the cloth and pressed it gently against my shoulder. I winced. The Viking pulled me against him again. My spine curved into his broad chest. I looked at his arm wrapped around me.

"If I drank from you now, would the pain go away?" I asked.

"Only the physical pain, my love," I heard him sigh. I let the tears go. They fell down my cheeks in rivers. "But you may have all of it that you wish."

I looked around at him, craning my neck to see his face. The rims of his eyes were red, and he had dots of blood on his cheeks. It was true that vampires wept, and it was true that they wept blood. I didn't say anything. I didn't even know what to say.

I took his proffered wrist in my hands and held it up to my mouth. Every part of me was sore and I ached for a little relief. But I couldn't bear to break his skin. I pushed his arm away, defeated.

"If I could turn back time," Eric whispered hoarsely. He lifted his wrist to his mouth and I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard his skin snap. He held out his hand to me. I watched blood drip from the wound. It dropped down into the water and sank, leaving a red stain. I wanted to stop hurting, but I couldn't take his gift. I shook my head and lifted his wrist up to his own mouth. He licked the wound reluctantly.

In silence, Eric began to wash me clean. He rubbed the cloth with a bar of soap and ran it over my skin. He rubbed my arms and my face, my back and my neck. When he looked down at the rest of me, he dropped his hand.

"I don't want to do it." I said quietly. I lifted my eyes to his nose, but I couldn't look up any further. "Will you?"

"Yes, my love," he replied gently. In the tub, under the water, Eric pulled me over his lap. I sat there stiffly. I couldn't relax. I knew I wanted to be clean, but I couldn't let myself think about why.

Eric nudged my thighs apart with his hand and pressed the cloth gently against me. Pain throbbed dully from my belly button to my knees. I had a new river of tears on my face. My lover pulled his hand away immediately and wrapped both of his arms around me. He rocked me for a long time, until I was all pruny.

When we got out of the bath at last, Eric wrapped me in a towel and carried me through the hall to another room. An enormous four poster bed sat in the middle of the floor. Like the rest of his home, there were no windows. This was where my Viking slept. There was a nightgown on the bed, long and cotton, with lace around the arms. It must have been Pam's. I slid into the corner of the room, held the towel up in front of me, and shimmied into it. As if Eric had never seen me naked before. As if I were changing clothes in junior high gym class.

Eric pulled a pair of thin sweatpants up to his hips and pulled back the covers. He sat down on the edge of the bed and held out his hand to me. Uncertain, I inched toward it. I had nowhere else to sleep. I trusted Eric. He loved me. I climbed slowly onto the mattress.

"Is Bill alright?" I asked as soon as I'd shoved myself under the covers. I felt like a small child in her parents' bed. Eric turned on his side and slid both of his arms around me. I pressed my cheek against his bare skin.

"He'll be fine," the Viking replied. He was brushing his fingers through my wet hair. I didn't care that it would be tangled when I woke up.

"Do you know how he knew?" I wanted to thank him. I wanted to forgive him.

"Would you like to ask him yourself?" I nodded. I pulled the blankets up to my neck. Eric had a peculiar expression on his face. There was a knock on the door. Then it opened. Bill and Pam were standing together in the doorway.

"Sookie," Bill whispered. He didn't have a scratch on him. You'd never have known he'd been knocked unconscious in a fight only an hour before.

"Bill," I murmured. I didn't want to leave Eric's arms. I didn't want him to see anything beyond my face. Everything under the blankets was ugly and a mess. I turned over to face out to my former lover. He looked at me sadly.

"I am sorry, Sookie. I could not save you." He closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped in his defeat.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I didn't. I checked your home, called your phone, and tried to reach Eric and Sam. I saw some tracks in the lot and followed them as far as the road out of town. I didn't know where else to go."

"Thank you for coming for me. I…I'm sorry for being so cruel to you." Eric squeezed my hand under the blankets.

"It was the least that I could do." Bill looked from me to Eric, then nodded to me and left the room. Pam looked around, smiled at me briefly, and slipped out. She shut the door behind her.

"It's getting late, my lover," Eric whispered. I turned over and curled up against his chest again. He held me close, and kissed my hair.

"I'm afraid to close my eyes."

"I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you," he stiffened. "Not again."

"When you're sleeping, I can't wake you." I frowned. I remembered how hard it had been to get him out at Rhodes.

"You can," he sighed. His lips found my shoulder. I closed the tiny gap that existed between us. My eyes were getting heavy.

"Eric?" I murmured sleepily.

"Sookie,"

"Am I yours?" I'd been so reluctant to be his, to tie myself to him. I was Sookie Stackhouse, independent woman. I could take care of myself. But I wanted someone else to take care of me now.

"Do you want to be?" He lifted my chin and looked down at me. I closed my eyes. It was difficult to look at him. I didn't know why.

"I want to be safe. I'm safe when I'm with you."

"I hadn't planned on letting you go," he said reassuringly.

"I want to be yours." I whispered. "And I want to be the only one."

He'd have laughed if it had been any other day. "You are the only one, my love." He paused. I wanted to look at him, but I couldn't. Would I see judgment looking back at me? Would I see sadness or irritation or pain? I didn't want to know.

"You're mine, Sookie."

Victor's face loomed in front of me. His muddy eyes and thick curly hair bounced in front of my face. I was aching, screaming, and thrashing at his face. He didn't seem affected. He was still pounding away, hurting me. I clamped my legs together. Eric! ERIC! Please… please stop. Pleading didn't seem to sway him. I couldn't do anything. Helpless. I was helpless.

I sat up, panting. The room was dark and still. I glanced at the small digital clock with red glowing numbers beside Eric's bed. It was just after three in the afternoon. I looked down at the sleeping Viking. I shook his arm. Then I shook it harder. His eyes flickered open halfway.

"I had a nightmare," I whispered. My face was wet. I'd been crying in my sleep. Eric sat up with effort. He took me by the shoulders and pulled me back into his embrace. It was still light out behind these windowless walls. I shook with the memory of my dreams.

"I'm here, my lover," he whispered in the world's softest voice. "Just rest."

"I can't sleep again."

"Then we'll stay awake together."

When my eyes felt heavy again an hour later, Eric's eyes were still open. He was murmuring in old Norse next to my ear.

* * *

**The End. **

_Dear Readers, Thank you so much for the response to this piece. As a few of you noted in your reviews, this was a difficult fic to write. While I am not a victim of rape, I know more than one woman that is. My heart goes out to any person who has survived such a trauma. I hope that Sookie's point of view in this is seen as it is meant to be seen, not that it was her fault or that she was somehow to blame, but simply that she felt those things. Hopefully the loved ones of trauma survivors treat them the same way Eric treats Sookie, as someone fragile but deeply loved. _

_Thanks for reading. _

_At a Venture  
_


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